Not Going Home
by silverfoxstole
Summary: TVM AU. When the TARDIS refuses to return to San Francisco at the start of the year 2000, Grace and Lee are stuck on board. They've no idea where they're heading, but one thing is for sure: they won't be going home any time soon.
1. Chapter 1

**NOT GOING HOME**

 **Author's Note:**

The first chapter of this fic was originally posted at AO3 under the title _The Start of Something_ ; _Not Going Home_ takes place immediately after the end of that story so it seemed logical to post them here together.

This will be a series of vignettes/snapshots rather than a coherent storyline.

* * *

"So... the TARDIS is alive, right?" Lee asked, leaning on the ledge in a position only a teenage boy would find comfortable: resting on one elbow, legs stuck out almost at a right angle.

There was a spark and a crack from under the console and a hand appeared to wave away a puff of smoke. "In a manner of speaking." The Doctor's answer was muffled by whatever panel he'd jammed his head into as he worked to replace the cables that had been wrenched out when he wired the beryllium chip into the ship's innards. His voice dropped to a soothing murmur, the kind one might use to a small child or an elderly pet. "Oh, you poor old girl. Whatever have we done to you, eh? Never mind, I'll soon have you shipshape again."

"Like: she actually talks to you?"

"Not in so many words." From where she sat on the edge of the library, sensibly staying out of the firing line should the Doctor manage to blow them all up, Grace could only see a pair of bent knees clad in loose greyish-brown trousers. After a moment the hand reappeared, this time reaching blindly for something from the toolbox that sat beside him on the dais. "It's rather complicated and difficult to explain. You see, a Time Lord and his TARDIS are symbiotically linked."

Lee pulled a face, as though he'd just been spoken to in Latin. "What does _that_ mean?"

"Essentially, that the TARDIS is alive and she talks to me." There was amusement in the Doctor's voice now. He twisted, legs stretching out, and Grace was presented with the ridged soles of Brian's old shoes.

"Oh, ha ha." Lee rolled his eyes. "Thanks for nothing, Doc."

A clink and then a very definite _boing!_ came from under the console. "If you have a few weeks to spare I can find the manual and explain it to you," the Time Lord replied, unperturbed. "Mind you, that might be a bit awkward if volumes twelve to one thousand and forty-seven are still missing..."

Grace, getting used to life in the company of a man who spoke nonsense like a native, shook her head with what was fast becoming a fond smile. One black lace-up was raised to give the underside of the console a sharp kick and she couldn't help recalling the evening she'd given them to him, an evening that had followed what she would have described at that point as the most baffling few hours of her life. If only she'd know what was to come!

* * *

" _Here; these look about the right size," she'd said, dumping the box on the table and not caring right now that it nearly hit one of the empty cups (tea, not coffee, for him, and how glad she'd been when he told her that; he was skittish enough already, the thought of him on a caffeine buzz was too scary to contemplate)._

 _He frowned, as though he'd never seen a pair of nearly-new shoes before. God knew why Brian had left them behind but remembered to take the sofa when he cleared out so fast, but there they'd been on the floor of the closet and she certainly wasn't going to give them back; she owned more of that damned sofa than he did. "And they are...?"_

" _Shoes." Grace took them out and waved them in front of him. "We wear them here on Earth. I found a pair of socks too; if you carry on running around without you'll get hypothermia."_

" _Ah, I see! Thank you!" A quite dazzling smile was aimed at her and to her intense annoyance she felt her heart do a somersault. Great, now she was having feelings for a lunatic she'd only known a couple of hours and who was suffering from amnesia but thought he was the reincarnation of the patient she'd lost last night. What the hell did she ever do wrong to deserve all this? "I very much appreciate it; all of mine are..." He trailed off, eyes suddenly vague and that faintly lost look settling over his features once more._

" _Are where?" she prompted gently despite herself, half hoping that maybe something so mundane as a sock might trigger a memory. No such luck._

 _He shook his head, expression mournful. "I don't remember."_

 _Grace's hope deflated. "Oh. Well, never mind." She turned to pick up the box she'd brought from her office. Her dress was probably creased beyond repair. "I'm going to put this stuff away and have a shower. Then we'll take a look at your blood. I hope you're not squeamish around needles."_

" _I don't think so. If I can deal with a wire in my veins I'm sure I can handle a hypodermic," he said, arching an eyebrow._

 _Ignoring the verbal needle, she left him to try on his shoes. She took her time in the shower, allowing the hot water to ease away the kinks in her muscles and soothe the turmoil in her mind. A tiny part of her still clung to the thought that perhaps she'd had too many late nights and was hallucinating, the only logical explanation for there to be a man apparently with two hearts sitting in her living room, a man who had pulled from his chest the microsurgical probe she'd last seen vanish into the body of someone completely different. She wanted to believe in that hypothesis, as the only other remotely feasible was that she'd finally cracked and was in desperate need of a head-check from psychiatric._

 _It was dark when she made her way back downstairs. Much to her disappointment, her hallucination was still there; he must have heard her coming as he'd taken off his coat and rolled up his sleeve in readiness. Grace fetched her equipment without a word, and it wasn't until she was tightening the tourniquet around his arm that he said, "You left those behind."_

" _Keep still," she admonished as he tried to point with the hand she was holding against the table as she looked for a vein. "Left what behind?"_

" _Those." Instead he nodded, as though indicating with his nose, and she finally saw the brown bag sitting on the counter top._

" _Oh." She swabbed the crook of his elbow with antiseptic. "They're just candy, and they're not mine."_

 _He barely even seemed to notice when she broke the needle out of its packet and slid it expertly into the vein, the frown back again. "Then whose are they?"_

 _Grace gently drew his blood. It was a strange colour, a sort of orange-red. "They belonged to Mr Smith, the gunshot wound from last night. I must have picked 'em up when I left."_

" _Then that must mean..." His long fingers were beating a tattoo on his bottom lip. "That must mean they're mine!"_

" _I guess so," she agreed, putting the vial of blood aside and withdrawing the needle. Finding some cotton wool she grabbed hold of his hand, dragging it away and pressing his fingers to the puncture. "Here: lift your arm up and hold this for a minute."_

 _He did, but for barely thirty seconds before he was investigating that damned paper bag. "Aha! Jelly babies!" he crowed triumphantly, pulling out what to Grace looked like a fat little man made of jell-o and covered in sugar. She felt vaguely nauseated._

" _Hey!" she exclaimed, reaching for him but he twisted easily away. "You need to keep that arm still; you'll hurt yourself."_

" _I don't think so. It's healed over already; look." He raised his arm, and to her amazement he was right: there was no bruising, so blood, no hint that she'd even touched him. With a smile he offered her the bag. "Would you like one?"_

" _I... think I'll pass, thanks all the same." She stood to securely dispose of the needle and accompanying paraphernalia and he shrugged, chewing down on one of the sweets with an appreciative hum. As she busied herself setting up microscope and slides, taking out a new notebook and pen, he rolled down his sleeve and tied his cravat with a flourish, slipping back into that ridiculous velvet coat. Ten minutes later he was perched on the cabinet at her back as she stared at the impossibility that was magnified before her._

" _How's my blood?"_

" _It's not blood..."_

* * *

"There! That should do it." The Doctor shut the panel with a bang loud enough to return Grace to the present and stood, somehow without cracking his head on the underside of the console. His unruly hair was full of dust and there was a smear of something unidentifiable down one cheek. The sonic screwdriver whirled through his long fingers with the dexterity of a gunslinger before it vanished into his pocket as he pored over the displays, Lee at his side. "Now, let's see... ah."

"That 'ah' does not sound very encouraging," Grace said, getting up to join them.

"Sorry, would you prefer 'hmm'?" he asked, distracted, as he ran a hand over the controls, flicking switches and giving the wheel made of coloured lights a spin. The TARDIS gave an asthmatic cough. "Now, that's not right."

She sighed. "I knew it. What've you done now?"

His head shot up and she was pinned with a sharp blue stare surrounded by an expression of wounded innocence. " _I_ haven't done anything! My repairs should have put right the damage caused by the Master and the energies that were released from the Eye of Harmony."

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Much to her surprise, the Doctor chuckled. "Grace, Grace, Grace, I've been fixing the TARDIS for centuries. I know her systems better than the back of my own hand. Why, I've even had to - "

"Hey, Doc," Lee called from the other side of the console, interrupting him mid-ramble. "Should it be doing this?"

"Doing what?" The Time Lord was there in an instant, eyebrows rising so far they nearly met his fringe. He toggled a couple of levers and thumped the console right above the date indicator. "No, it definitely should not be doing that. I input our course; we were only hovering in the vortex while I made the repairs." His mouth set in determination as he began to confidently manipulate the controls, his hands moving so fast they were practically a blur. Grace looked up and saw the monitor that hung above the console cycling through a series of places and times, each one flashing onto the screen for barely a moment before it slid away.

"What is it?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"The TARDIS has decided to take matters into her own hands. For whatever reason, she doesn't seem to want us to return to San Francisco on the thirty-first of December 1999."

"What? Why?"

He shot her a look of mild exasperation. "If I knew that do you think I'd be fighting with her like this?" Another thump. "Come on, come on, old girl, you don't need to do this... I know you don't like it but just the once, just for me, _please_?"

Grace strode round to his side of the console but looking at the readouts there didn't help as none of it made the blindest bit of sense to her. She could feel panic building and an irrational urge to slap the Doctor for scaring her like this. "Are you trying to say that you can't take us home?"

"It would appear that way, yes." He ducked underneath and opened a hatch in the panel there, rummaging around inside.

"Oh my God. Not ever?"

"Well, not at this immediate juncture, certainly. Would you hold this, please?"

Grace took the bundle of crystals he handed her, gritting her teeth both from frustration and the whine of the sonic screwdriver. "Doctor, I have work in the morning!"

"Really?" His head popped up and he blinked in surprise. "I thought you'd resigned?"

"I... what? How did you know that? Did you read my mind again?"

"I'm not a mind reader, Grace. Most people don't carry the contents of their office with them when they leave for the day," he said and disappeared.

Grace heard a snigger and glared at Lee, who was trying to wipe the grin off his face. "Doesn't this bother you?"

He shrugged. "Not really. What've I got to go back to? No one's going to care if I spend a while seeing the universe." Stepping back he turned his attention to the holographic view-screen above their heads, the whole ceiling bathed in the blue-green beauty of the time vortex. The expression on his face came very close to genuine awe. "Why would you want to go home with all that to explore?"

"I don't know, I just... I'm not ready to become a space traveller!" Grace yelled.

"Unfortunately, I think you may have to get used to the idea," said the Doctor, jumping up between them like a jack-in-the-box and taking the crystals from her. He shoved them back where they belonged and shut the hatch. "She's not going anywhere near that night, I'm afraid. There must be some residual scarring in the vortex that's putting her off."

"But the future does exist, right? You told me that whatever the hell it was I did to re-route the power worked."

"Oh, it did and it does," he replied incomprehensibly. "Earth is still there, the new millennium is intact. It just seems that the TARDIS's own sense of self-preservation is keeping her away."

"You mean she doesn't want to jump right back into the fire?" asked Lee.

"Precisely. Sorry, Grace; it looks like you'll have to settle for the scenic route." To his credit, the Doctor did look very apologetic... for about ten seconds before he was grinning. "Well, you're both very welcome to stay. I'm sure it isn't but it feels like aeons since I last had companions about the place. How about an adventure?"

Lee's response was immediate, and Grace winced at the delighted whoop he made. "I'm in!"

"Excellent! Grace?"

She shook her head. Though she couldn't in all honesty say she was entirely happy with the idea of being stuck millions of light years and only God knew how many centuries from home, it didn't look as though she'd be going anywhere anytime soon. And she had to admit, meeting the Doctor's eager gaze and practically feeling the enthusiasm was radiating, she didn't really mind the company all that much. She found a handkerchief in her pocket and stepped over to clean the smudge of whatever from his face. "I guess someone has to keep you in line," she told him, wiping at his cheek. "If I leave you alone you're going to get into all kinds of trouble."

He smiled. "I can promise you it'll be more fun than job-hunting."

"That's a claim you better live up to, Doctor," Grace said as she reached up to remove a cobweb from his hair. His breath brushed her wrist and there was a definite twinkle in his eye when he replied,

"Oh, I always keep my promises, Doctor."

There was a theatrical groan from the other side of the console. "Oh, _please_. If you two are going to flirt can you get a room?" Lee asked, disgusted. "The kid really doesn't need to watch."

The Doctor burst out laughing, and after a beat Grace couldn't help joining him. "All right, Lee, you win," he said, turning back to the console and flexing his fingers over the controls. "Where do you want to go?"

Lee spread his arms expansively. "Everywhere!"

"That might take a while; perhaps we should narrow it down to at least one of a hundred times and places first. Grace?" The Doctor glanced at her, one brow arched expectantly.

"You really think this heap is going to let you tell her where you want to go?" she enquired, and the eyebrow just lifted further. She hesitated. _In for a penny_... A smile broke over her face. "Surprise me."

"Ah, leaving it up to chance. Excellent choice. Hold onto your hats, ladies and gents, assuming you're wearing any." With a grin the Doctor released the handbrake and hit the dematerialisation switch. The floor jolted as elephantine bellow of the TARDIS's engines filled the room. Grace clung onto the nearest girder. "Here we go...!"


	2. Chapter 2

It took approximately twenty seconds for Grace to regret agreeing to an adventure.

The TARDIS suddenly slammed to a halt, pitching Lee to the ground and the Doctor across the console; glad to already be clinging onto one of the girders she winced as she received a bruised knee and what was probably a strained shoulder, her fingers dented with painful grooves. Momentarily winded by the lever that had just stabbed him in the stomach, the Doctor reached for a section of multicoloured switches and flicked them quickly one after the other. The unearthly wheezing of the engines started up again but it was too soon to breathe a sigh of relief; mere moments later the whole room began to tilt, eventually coming to rest at forty-five degree angle, furniture sliding across the floor and books toppling from their shelves. As three clocks flew past her ear, all chiming the hour, followed by a pot plant and a ukulele, Grace yelled, "Was that supposed to happen?!"

"A bit of turbulence; just hold on," came the reply as the Doctor clambered hand over hand up the console, dodging a flying copy of _The Complete Works of Jane Austen_ and hanging onto the time rotor, stretching his way round to get to the controls on the other side. Grace wound her feet around the girder's metal supports, feeling ridiculously like a sloth dangling from a branch.

"Oh, great. Do you even know how to fly this thing?" she asked, her voice all but drowned out by the horrible vibrating noise the TARDIS was now making and the ear-splitting crash as one of the bronze statues that flanked the door toppled over.

Amidst all of this he still found a moment to shoot her a look, somehow managing to appear hurt through the glass and a tangle of curls. "Grace, I wish you would have more faith in me."

In response Grace would have liked to gesture to the chaos currently surrounding them but she didn't dare let go in case she joined the ever-growing pile of detritus on the other side of the room. She couldn't see Lee anywhere; hopefully he hadn't ended up underneath that lot as they'd never be able to find him. "Do you blame me?" she screamed.

"This isn't like driving a car, you know," the Doctor retorted, now sounding rather annoyed and somehow not needing to shout. "The TARDIS is temperamental, she needs coaxing, persuading..."

"Well, how about you 'persuade' her to put the floor back where it belongs?"

A steely blue glare came in her direction. "Precisely what do you think I'm trying to do?"

"Whatever it is you're doing can you get a move on?" another voice called plaintively and Grace looked down to see Lee curled around the base of the console; he must have grabbed it as he slid past and clung on for dear life. "This really isn't comfortable."

"Working as fast as I can, Lee." There was series of random bleeps and bloops and a somewhat disgruntled-sounding gurgle as the Doctor manipulated the controls, pulling this, smacking that, twiddling something else. One foot was now planted between the destination controls and the handbrake, the other precariously on the ledge that surrounded the console. With impressive dexterity, he leaned round and yanked on the chain that brought the hanging monitor down from the ceiling; from this angle Grace couldn't make out his expression when he saw whatever was flashing up on the screen but she definitely heard a mutter of "Oh, dear, that's not good" before he ducked down and started attacking the switches again with a speed that might just have been fuelled by panic.

"Doctor," she said, "Can you get us out of this?"

"Of course, of course," he replied, obviously distracted and moving out of the way just in time to avoid being hit on the head by the begonia that had just decided to launch itself from one of the shelves. "It might just take a while, that's all... talk amongst yourselves for a bit."

"Oooohhhh!" Grace fumed impotently. "I should have guessed something like this would happen. I can't believe I actually agreed to come with you!"

"Well, to be fair we didn't really have much choice," Lee reminded her as the contents of the Doctor's toolbox finally succumbed to the forces of gravity and clattered past his head.

"Precisely," the Time Lord agreed before Grace could open her mouth. "I presume you wouldn't have wanted to be dropped off twenty years after you left?"

"What? No! But what would have been wrong with taking us home a few days _before_ New Year's?" she demanded.

He stared at her, wide-eyed, and emphatically shook his head. "And risk you bumping into yourself? Oh, no, no, no. The universe has had quite enough of potential destruction for the moment. The fabric of time is far too delicate."

"You mean we could destroy the universe if we met ourselves?" Lee asked, interested despite their current situation. "That's crazy, man."

"Indeed. The Blinovich Limitation Effect is in place for a very good reason; it doesn't do to cross your own time stream. Well, unless you're a Time Lord and there are even greater stakes," the Doctor said, half to himself. Still awkwardly balanced on the console he glanced up at the time rotor and mumbled something under his breath that sounded to Grace remarkably like a prayer, crossing his fingers behind his back where he probably thought she couldn't see before leaning over and spinning the time wheel, hard. Grace almost lost her grip on the girder as the TARDIS gave an almighty lurch and something extremely heavy fell to earth; she closed her eyes, stomach turning upside down as though she'd just done ten loop-the-loops at Disneyland, and was sure she was about to be very, very ill when all of a sudden the shuddering stopped and the sound of the engines evened out to their apparently normal asthmatic groaning.

Nothing else happened, but she didn't want to let go or even look. Eventually, after what seemed like hours had passed but was probably only a minute or so, someone tapped her on the shoulder. Cautiously Grace opened her eyes, half expecting to see Armageddon, or at the very least a trail of destruction across the console room. The latter was definitely there, but the floor was back where it was supposed to be and the world was apparently still intact, certainly if the grin the Doctor was wearing was anything to go by. Ignoring him, she carefully unwound herself from the girder, palms feeling as though they'd been shredded and muscles quivering from the exertion of holding on for so long, and staggered towards the armchair that had by some miracle remained upright, collapsing into the cushions. The rest of the room looked as though an angry giant had grabbed hold of the TARDIS and given it a good shake.

"What was all that about?" Lee had emerged from under the console, rubbing the back of his head. "Did we hit something again?"

"Probably some more of that distortion in the vortex. It can spread like wildfire but it usually settles down once history decides on the path it wants to take. I expect we hit some bother around the time of the Reformation; that's always a bumpy ride and takes about two centuries to finally sort itself out," the Doctor said, peering at some readouts. "Everyone all right?"

"Oh, fine, just _fine_ ," Grace retorted. "I'm battered, bruised and still recovering from being possessed and killed, but otherwise everything is just peachy-keen, thanks."

"Good, good." He hadn't been listening, frowning at whatever the console was showing him. "How very odd; there's no record of any temporal distortion registering in this section of the vortex. According to the TARDIS we're precisely where we're meant to be."

"I was right, then: it _was_ your lousy driving."

She knew he'd heard that; she saw his mouth twitch in annoyance. "It's probably down to some residual effect of the Eye of Harmony being open too long. I'll look for the relevant manual; see if it can shed any light on the subject... oh, dear." The Doctor turned and surveyed the state of his library in dismay. There were books scattered all over the floor, some in the garden and the fishpond, others smouldering from where their pages had been caught by toppled candelabra. "We'll have to clean this lot up first."

With a sigh he began to gather up books and cushions, rescuing an astrolabe and an antique telescope from under an upturned ottoman. After a few moments Lee started to help, uncovering the gramophone and wincing as he discovered a stack of broken LPs. Grace pushed herself unsteadily to her feet. "Is there a bathroom on this tub?" she enquired.

The Doctor blinked at her in surprise. "Yes, of course. Third door on the left down the hallway; look for the yellow duck."

"Good." Wobbling only slightly, she headed in the direction of the interior door, half-hidden behind a pair of red velvet curtains. Stopping on the threshold and surveying the mess, she announced, "I'm going to clean _myself_ up; do _not_ disturb me under any circumstances."

"None whatsoever?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Grace thought for a moment. "Only if the universe actually _is_ ending," she conceded, adding as she turned back to the doorway, "And then give it half an hour."


	3. Chapter 3

"Grace? Grace, are you in here?"

The Doctor's voice carried through the rails and closets of the TARDIS's wardrobe room to where Grace stood in front of a full-length mirror, admiring the gorgeous burgundy wool coat she'd just found. Lightly fitted at the waist with skirts that fell to the ankle it would go beautifully with a pants suit she had, maybe with the Versace blouse that she'd bought in a sale and never found an occasion to wear. The only problem was that both were back in San Francisco in 1999 and she was currently only God knew when and where, whirling about in the middle of the time vortex. With a sigh she hung the coat back on the rail, wondering just how long it was going to take her to get used to the idea that, for the foreseeable future at least, she wasn't going home.

"Grace?" This time her name was spoken right behind her and she jumped, one hand flying to her pounding heart. The Doctor was standing there wearing a smile that was entirely inappropriate given that he'd nearly scared her to death.

"Don't," she said slowly, " _ever_ do that again. I do not want a coronary before I hit forty."

"You didn't answer," he said, utterly unrepentant. "I came to tell you that we'll be landing soon." He saw the pile of clothes on a nearby chair and frowned. "What're you doing?"

"Picking out something fresh to wear, what does it look like?"

The frown didn't move. "Whatever for?"

"I just had a long soak in the bath; you think I'm going to put yesterday's outfit back on?" Grace just about resisted the urge to roll her eyes; he evidently hadn't even noticed she was wearing a towelling robe, her hair still in the topknot she'd used to keep it free of the water.

He shrugged. "It was very fetching."

"And very dirty, especially after I ended up slimed by the Master and being thrown around in the muck in your Cloister Room," she pointed out. "You ever take a brush to that floor?"

"I've never spent much time in there before. Ohh, I see." Comprehension dawned at last. "There's no need to mess about in here if that's the only problem. Just stick the clothes in the TARDIS's laundry machine and they'll be as good as new in no time. Better, in fact, as it repairs as well as cleans."

"I might have known you'd have a washing machine from Mars." Grace couldn't help laughing, shaking her head.

The Doctor grinned. "Alpha Centauri, actually. You wouldn't want a Martian washing machine. Terrible things; they leave snags everywhere and the drainage is abysmal."

"You are such an idiot," she told him as she picked up her bundle. The wardrobe was stuffed from ceiling to floor with rail upon rail of clothes; she could have spent days in there, even weeks, trying on everything from Roman togas to Tudor gowns to stuff apparently made from tinfoil that wouldn't have looked out of place on the Jetsons. It had been very hard to resist walking away with an eighteenth century ball dress that could have been made for Marie Antoinette or a fantastic dressing gown trimmed with the most extravagant iridescent pink feathers that certainly never came from any bird native to the planet Earth, but she'd managed to confine herself to the basics, for now at least. "Are you sure it's OK to take this stuff?"

"Of course, of course. Help yourself to whatever you need. I don't think I'm likely to be wearing that jumper for a while," he said with a wink as he lifted the trailing sleeve of a fluffy pale blue sweater that might have come from the 1960s, putting it back on the pile.

"Are you sure?" Grace asked cheekily, tickling his cheek with the fuzz. "It matches your eyes."

For a moment she thought she saw the flicker of a challenge in them and that he would demand the sweater to try it on, but instead he looked slightly wistful. "I think I remember Polly wearing it once."

"I hope she won't mind me borrowing it."

"I shouldn't think so; she and Ben left me a long time ago. Nice girl; she was a secretary from 1966. We met in a nightclub... where did you find that?" Abruptly the Doctor reached out, tugging a loose-fitting t-shirt emblazoned with bright splashes of colour that Grace had thought might be good for sleeping in from the middle of the pile.

"Over there." She pointed vaguely in the direction of one of the many closets. "Do you want me to put it back?"

"No, no... I just hadn't seen it in years, that's all. It was one of Ace's favourites. She stopped wearing it, claimed it was too childish."

Now there was more to his expression: a melancholy that seemed to come easily to his eyes, strange in one who could be so relentlessly optimistic, and something else, a touch of anger perhaps? Grace wasn't going to ask, to pry, but the affection in his voice when he said that name and the way his thumb almost unconsciously stroked the fabric of the shirt compelled her to say, "She meant a lot to you, didn't she?"

He sighed. "Yes, she did, and I don't think I ever actually told her, not properly. We didn't... we didn't part on the best of terms." He shook his head, sharply. "I'm sorry, you don't want to hear about all that. It's just... having companions in the TARDIS after so long and seeing that shirt again..."

"Brings back memories, huh?"

"Something like that." Another sigh, gusty and full of frustration, and the frown was back, more confused than before. "Have you ever had the feeling that if you had the chance you'd go back and do things differently?"

Grace blinked. "All the time. Who hasn't?"

"It's even more awkward when you wish you could change something you did when you were someone else." The Doctor shot her a rueful smile. "Maybe I _am_ more human this time round. Regret is a very human emotion."

"Hey," she said lightly, poking him in the chest, "Don't knock human emotions. We can't all have a time machine to put our mistakes right."

To her surprise he actually shuddered, and not just for effect; it seemed as though a shiver had just run right down his spine. "Don't joke," he said with a grimace. "We must have broken about four laws of time with that little stunt, possibly five; I'm really going to be for it if the CIA ever catches up with me."

"What?" Now she nearly gaped at him. "The CIA have a time travel department? I know they're secretive, but - "

"No, no, no." The Doctor was shaking his head again, curls flying in all directions. "Not _them_ , I mean the Celestial Intervention Agency back on Gallifrey. They'll have my guts for garters; rewinding time like that created a temporal paradox and the CIA are only keen on those if they've deliberately caused them. They regard themselves as the professionals and I'm strictly amateur, you see."

"So what _are_ your people, then: some kind of time cops, watching out for people breaking the rules?" Somehow Grace couldn't imagine the Doctor ever being anything so mundane; she certainly couldn't see him writing anyone a ticket for illegally entering a restricted time zone.

"They would if they actually got off their backsides and went out into the universe. No, they only ever get involved when the transgression is of an extremely serious nature." He shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. "The fact that the TARDIS is avoiding that particular part of the vortex suggests that we did a fair bit of damage and the High Council aren't going to like that. Time Lords aren't supposed to meddle, you see, just observe. We're certainly not meant to turn time inside out."

"Hey," Grace said, "Who's this 'we' you keep mentioning? The Master caused all of it!"

"Well, yes, but you and I had to reroute the TARDIS's power in order to close the Eye of Harmony, didn't we? The old girl's a Type 40; she wasn't really built to have raw artron energy pushed through her drive system with quite so much force. It's a bit like putting rocket fuel into a Model T Ford; we're lucky the circuits didn't overload. Add the possibility of a severe temporal paradox and the CIA will be hopping mad."

Grace pinched the bridge of her nose, certain she was getting a headache. Just for once it would be nice to have a conversation with him that actually made sense and didn't jump about from tangent to crazy tangent. "You'd better not be intending to blame this paradox-thing on me; I only did what you told me to, and mostly by accident."

He held up a long finger. "And you did it admirably, Grace. Just think about it: you saved the universe!"

"Yeah, and you've just told me I could be arrested for it!" she retorted.

"Oh, I shouldn't think they'll bother us." The Doctor leaned in and grinned suddenly; in that moment, so close to those twinkling blue eyes, she wasn't sure if she'd rather slap him for scaring her or kiss him senseless. "I do happen to be very good friends with the president."

Grace groaned. "Oh, you _would_. You're a horrible name-dropper, you know that?"

"She used to travel with me, in fact," he continued, unperturbed. "I would have given you her room but I had to jettison it a few lifetimes ago to escape the Big Bang."

"Doctor," said Grace with what she regarded as admirable calm given the circumstances, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You'll learn. Now..." He clapped her lightly on the upper arms and whirled around, velvet coat flying, towards wherever the door must have been; Grace couldn't even see it any more. "I think we've lurked in here quite enough; there are places to see, people to meet!"

"Aren't you going to change?" she asked, and he frowned, evidently puzzled by the question.

"Again? I only changed two days ago. Are you fed up with this me already, Doctor Holloway?"

A slap, Grace thought, definitely a slap. "I mean your clothes, dummy. Where did you steal them from: one of the hospital lockers? Half the staff was going to the New Year's costume party."

The Doctor looked affronted. "I did _not_ steal them, I _borrowed_ them; my need was greater at the time. Even if I'd managed to find my own they wouldn't have fitted and I could hardly go wandering about the place in a shroud, could I?"

"True," she conceded, adding, "Whoever it was you 'borrowed' them from is going to get a hell of a fine from the costume hire shop."

"When we manage to get back I'll make it up to them," he promised. "Now, shall we go?"

"Not yet. You can't go around wearing a fancy dress costume," Grace insisted. "It's silly."

"Really?" He glanced at his reflection in the mirror and tugged on his lapels, turning this way and that. "I thought it rather suited the new me; makes this body look quite dashing, don't you agree? Much better than tweed and question marks at any rate."

She reached over and brushed away a piece of lint from his sleeve. Absurd as it was the clothes actually _did_ suit him, setting off his refined handsomeness and those beautiful chestnut curls. No one else could have got away with it, but he managed to make the old-fashioned outfit look quite natural. However, even if that was the case, to go about dressed like a reject from the nineteenth century on a day-to-day basis was crazy and she said so. To her annoyance he just laughed.

"Grace, Grace, Grace, I'm a Time Lord; It doesn't matter what I wear because I'm _always_ out of date." he announced, spreading his arms wide for emphasis. "I don't belong to any one time and place. I'm a citizen of the universe!"

"Now you're just being pretentious," Grace told him. "You- "

She was interrupted by a shout from somewhere down the corridor. "Hey, Doctor, Grace!" Lee called. "C'mon! We've landed and I want to know where we are!"

The Doctor turned back to Grace. "Coming?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Well, you could always stay in the TARDIS..."

Grace shook her head. "Uh-uh. You really think I'm going to let you two out of my sight?"

"Wonderful. I'll see you in the console room in five minutes." The door, she discovered, was typically just around the corner. The Doctor paused on the threshold and looked her up and down, arching an eyebrow. "I should probably get dressed first, though; anachronism is one thing, but most societies draw the line at wandering around in bath robes."

The pile of clothes Grace flung at the doorway just missed his disappearing coat tails.


	4. Chapter 4

"Well, this is exciting." Beyond the TARDIS doors there was nothing but pitch darkness. Grace waved a hand in front of her face but couldn't see it. "Did they forget to turn the lights on, or have you brought us to a civilisation that hasn't discovered electricity?"

"Could be either. Or both. Or neither," the Doctor said in her ear; she nearly shot through the roof, assuming wherever they were had one. "One thing you'll learn: don't judge everywhere you go by parochial human standards."

"Given that I _am_ a parochial human who has never been beyond Earth before, I think I can be forgiven my narrow world-view. And you can stop patronising me, thanks; I'm not a kid," she reminded him. "Where _are_ we, anyway?"

"According to the TARDIS, a planet called Xenaria. I can't say it's somewhere I've ever visited before."

"On it, or under it?" asked Lee, from somewhere to Grace's left.

"Only one way to find out." There was a click, and she was suddenly blinking furiously, trying to clear the patterns left on her retinas from an incredibly bright beam of light that momentarily dazzled her. When she could finally see again the Doctor was holding a large rubberised torch, one that was far too big to have fitted into his coat pocket; he was also standing about six feet to the right of where she'd mentally placed him. She glanced at the TARDIS but the door was still firmly shut; refusing to give him the satisfaction of asking instead she looked up, at the striated ceiling that was now revealed.

"Rock," she observed. "So we're underground."

He hummed in agreement. "Several miles, I should think."

Lee was frowning; he reached out and touched the nearest wall. "It's red; like _devil_ red. Since when is rock this red?"

"Go on," Grace told the Doctor before he could open his mouth. "Tell him he's being a parochial human."

He gave her a withering look and passed her the torch. With a flick of his wrist he produced the sonic screwdriver apparently from thin air and went to join Lee; after a few moments the increasingly familiar warbling of the tool bounced off the cave walls, giving it a strange, eerie quality that made Grace shiver. Telling herself she was being silly she wondered whether she should duck back inside for a thicker coat. "Hmm," the Doctor said finally. "It's certainly not of a composition I've come across before. Given the colour I'd expect it to be rich in iron ore but that doesn't seem to be the case."

"So what do we do; head back inside the TARDIS and try again?" Grace suggested.

"And leave a potentially fascinating planet unexplored? Certainly not!" The Doctor looked horrified by the very idea. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

She pulled a face. "I think I left it on the bedside table, but my sense of self-preservation is right here. You said you've never visited this world before; _anything_ could be lurking out there!"

"Exactly," he said, and she gaped at him.

"Are you saying that you actually _want_ to walk into potential danger?"

"Of course. That's what I do," he said, utterly unfazed. Turning the screwdriver round he made an adjustment to its controls and it lit up like a pen torch. "Come on."

"Cool," Lee remarked, ducking into a tunnel that Grace could now see led away from the cave in which the TARDIS had landed. "We're explorers! I claim these rocks for the planet Earth!"

The Doctor followed him and with a sigh she brought up the rear. Evidently she was going to be the unheeded voice of reason in this little setup. Lee could be excused his disregard for his own safety by his youth, but she was coming to realise that the Doctor sometimes seemed to positively revel in it. She'd caught him grinning and even laughing during that terrifying ride on a stolen police motorcycle, when Grace had been convinced more than once that they were going to end up under a truck, actually enjoying himself despite the perilous situation. Admittedly, the sheer exhilaration of escaping the ITAR building had been a wonderful feeling but she certainly hadn't found the trip downwards on the end of a fire hose fun, her face buried in the Doctor's coat to avoid watching the ground come up to meet them. Was this what her life was going to be like now?

* * *

"Careful, Lee, don't go too far ahead!" the Doctor called after a while, and Grace just about heard something that sounded like an assent from somewhere down the tunnel.

"Where's he going? Surely he can't see a thing!" she exclaimed.

"It's getting brighter; look." He pointed, and she switched off the torch for a moment. Sure enough, the passage in front of them was faintly illuminated; the result was pale, watery, as though something was shimmering on the rock. There was just about room for the two of them to stand side by side now and she moved closer, enough to be able to see him frowning in the strange light.

"What is it? The surface? I didn't notice that we were walking upwards."

"That's because we haven't been."

"Then it's something horrible? I knew it," Grace groaned.

"Maybe, maybe not. I like to keep an open mind." His hand unerringly found hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Let's move on, but with a little more caution."

"Fine by me."

"Come on, then." The Doctor headed for the light, strolling down the tunnel with a lot more confidence than Grace was feeling. Anyone would think he was out for a walkin the park on a nice afternoon; in contrast her imagination was already conjuring up all sorts of nasties that could be round that bend. Brian had been a fan of _Predator_ and the _Alien_ films and while two days ago she would have told anyone that they were obviously fiction, she was now uncomfortably aware that there were probably even worse creatures out there in the wider universe.

Fervently hoping she wasn't about to meet any of them today (or ever if she was being completely honest), she followed in the Doctor's wake, forcing herself reluctantly to release the death grip she'd unconsciously taken on his hand. She was so busy trying to steel herself for what she might suddenly encounter that she almost crashed straight into his back; he'd stopped a few feet into the cavern and was gazing around with undisguised interest. Grace managed to pull herself together before he noticed her slightly undignified entry and turned to take a look; what she saw made her jaw drop.

"Oh, my _God_..."

"Isn't it awesome?" Lee asked excitedly, and she had to admit he was right. She was standing in what could only be described as an underground cathedral: the cave was huge, more than forty feet wide and maybe half that again long, its walls made of delicately-glowing pink crystal. Glassy, glittering stalactites hung like icicles from the vaulted ceiling, their points wickedly sharp; Grace turned on the torch for a moment to illuminate the recesses above and caught the fluttering of wings but whether they belonged to this world's version of birds or bats she couldn't tell. Ahead of her the rock rose upwards from the floor creating a kind of ledge or possibly an altar; stepping closer she could see something in the middle, half-concealed behind a crystalline screen; a figure carved from what could have been the same red stone they'd seen in the tunnels when they arrived.

"What _is_ this place?" she wondered aloud, turning slowly on the spot in an attempt to take it all in. Behind the 'altar' was a dark space, roughly the size and shape of a stained glass window in a renaissance church; an empty frame waiting to be filled, or something else entirely?

The Doctor wandered forwards, brushing his fingers lightly over the wall; in response the light it emitted grew stronger, as though reacting to his presence. "A place of worship for the indigenous population, at a guess, but whether it's still in regular use is debatable."

"So far underground... surely it must have been abandoned. There's no sign that anyone's been here recently."

"That theory does rather assume the locals live on the surface." He raised his hand, showing her his clean fingers. "See? No dust."

"That means nothing; I know where dust comes from," Grace told him.

"No cobwebs, either."

Time to beat him at his own game. "Maybe this planet doesn't have any spiders."

His mouth twitched in amusement. "Good point."

Grace smiled back. "I'm a fast learner."

"Indeed you are. I – Lee, don't touch that." The Doctor broke off sharply, hurrying over to where their companion was hovering around the altar, attention fixed on the strange red figure behind the screen. Lee glanced up to see the stern-faced Time Lord approaching and moved away slightly, hands behind his back.

"OK, OK, I was only looking," he protested. "Chill out, man; Indiana Jones wouldn't be so uptight."

"First rule of exploring alien civilisations: keep your hands off their religious artefacts," the Doctor said, and then bent over for a good look at the statue for himself, crouching until he was eye-level with it. "Remember what happened with that golden idol."

Grace watched him as he took out the sonic screwdriver once more and waved it over the thing; the device began to buzz at a frequency that gradually started to make her teeth ache. "And I suppose you always follow your own advice?" she enquired archly.

He glanced up at her. "You two are new to all this; I'm a professional."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Well... experienced amateur, then. You know, this is interesting; there's a faint psychic vibration emanating from it." The Doctor rubbed his forehead distractedly. "Can you hear that?"

"Hear what?" She was at his side in a moment, sarcasm forgotten as he started to sway on his feet; grabbing his arm she managed to stop him falling and he leant gratefully on her shoulder. "What's the matter?"

"Something at the back of my mind..." He shook his head, as though there was something loose inside it. "No, it's gone..."

"Come sit down for a second," Grace said, leading him away, towards an outcrop that was about the right height for a pew. "Put your head between your knees."

"I'll be fine," he insisted. "Really, Grace, I'm a Time Lord, remember? Human remedies aren't likely to work."

"I'm not likely to forget. Just do it," she ordered in her best no-nonsense doctor's tone. Grumbling, he did as he was told. "You just nearly fainted; give yourself a moment." She glanced around the cavern, feeling suddenly cold; rubbing at her arms to try and generate some warmth she wished again that she'd put on a heavier coat. That was weird, as just now she could have sworn it actually felt warmer in there. "This place gives me the creeps. Feels like someone's watching me."

"Perhaps something is. I've seen it before: telepathic entities living inside rock, animating it for their own purposes. That statue may act as a kind of lodestone for their psychic power."

"And exactly what might they do with this 'psychic power'? I'm guessing they probably won't want to discuss the latest episode of _X-Files_."

The Doctor sat up. "Unlikely; we're so many light years away from Earth that the current TV here is more likely to have been produced by John Logie Baird."

"Doctor," said Grace, "Can we _please_ go back to the TARDIS now? I know you do this all the time but I was possessed by an alien maniac a couple of days ago and I really don't want something worse to happen on my first trip out."

He looked torn, and she knew he was desperately wanting to investigate further and find out what this possible 'telepathic entity' actually was, but at length he sighed and nodded. "Yes, yes, you're right. We'll leave this mystery for another day. Come on, Lee; we'll head back the way we came."

"Be with you in a second," Lee called. "I'm just – uh-oh."

There was a loud click, and Grace turned to see that the crystal screen in front of the statue was receding, drawing down into the altar; the statue itself had begun to glow, an increasingly fierce red light that forced her to shield her eyes. Lee was staring at it like a rabbit caught in headlights. "What did you do?" she shouted, feeling the ground start to shudder under her feet, just like the tremors that sometimes ran through the city at home.

"Nothing! I didn't touch it, _honest_!" he exclaimed, stumbling away, hands held high as the Doctor ran across the shaking floor, a silhouette against the brilliant glare. "What's happening?"

"Our presence must have triggered a long-dormant defence mechanism," the Doctor said rapidly, looking around the rock as though he was searching for some kind of control panel. "Whatever that psychic presence is, it obviously wants us gone."

"Can you stop it?"

"Well, I could try telepathic communion, talk to it and persuade it we're not out to loot the place - "

"And while you're chatting we get shaken to pieces?" Grace yelled. "Let's just _go_!"

"You're right, in this case discretion is probably the better part of valour!" Leaving the altar he raced towards the doorway, grabbing her hand and Lee's elbow as he passed, dragging them with him. Grace nearly went down, the shuddering increasing with every step, just managing by a miracle to keep her footing. And there, just on the edge of her hearing, was something else: a low, ominous rumbling...

"Doctor!" she called, tugging on his hand to try and get his attention. He glanced back over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. "I've seen _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ , I remember what happens!"

His eyes widened, and she knew he could hear it too. "Oh, dear."

"What're you talking about?" Lee bawled. "What's going on?"

They all looked at each other. The rumbling was getting louder. And closer.

The Doctor took a deep breath. "When I say run..."


	5. Chapter 5

Worried as she was about the Doctor, Grace couldn't help but notice that the other occupant of the cell was uncharacteristically silent. She glanced across and was just about able to make Lee out in the dim light: he'd curled into himself, head down and arms wrapped around his knees, almost as though he wanted to disappear.

"Hey," she called softly, and he jumped at the first sound in the room for hours. "Are you OK?"

He lifted his chin, and she could almost see him drawing on that shell of bravado she was coming to know so well. "Like you care."

"Of course I care! Lee, I can tell that something's bothering you and if you want to talk about it..." Grace shrugged as best she could with the Doctor's head resting against her shoulder. "None of us are going anywhere." She waited, but no response was forthcoming so she tried again. "I'm a good listener, I promise."

There was a long pause, and she shifted the Doctor slightly, beginning to lose the feeling in her left arm. He still showed no sign of coming round, his skin alarmingly cold and his breathing so shallow she could barely make it out in the gloom. She checked the dressings again; rough as they were they seemed to be holding but she knew he needed medical attention sooner rather than later, alien or no. For what seemed like the hundredth time she gently brushed his hair back from his closed eyes and silently willed him to come back to them. Without him they were horribly out of their depth, stranded like this on a hostile planet so far from home.

When Lee finally spoke again she nearly leapt out of her skin, his voice coming from right behind her shoulder. She hadn't even noticed him move. "Will he be OK?" he asked, and Grace turned her head to see him staring down at the unconscious Doctor, in the shadows his expression a mixture of pain and something else she couldn't quite identify: loss, perhaps?

"I don't know," she said honestly. "If we could get him somewhere with medical equipment so I can see to those wounds I'm pretty sure he'll be fine, but I don't see that happening any time soon. Do you?"

"It's all my fault." The words were muffled as he bowed his head again and she could only just distinguish them.

"Pardon?"

"I _said_ , this is all my fault!" Lee yelled, shoving his face into hers with such ferocity that she nearly toppled over. The wall thankfully saved her dignity but only just; lacking the energy or will to move again she just sprawled there with the Doctor half in her lap, Lee bearing down on them, his face black with anger. "It's always the same: anyone I get close to, anyone I might actually... give a damn about... they _always_ die! I kill them!"

"Lee, you haven't killed anyone," Grace said, suddenly realising as the words left her mouth that she had no idea of his background beyond the odd word or two. After all, he'd been there in the alley when the Doctor was shot and she didn't think he'd been taking in the air. "Have you?"

He gave a bitter laugh that sounded far too old for his years. "Maybe I didn't pull the trigger, but they're dead all the same. Everyone's dead except me."

"The Doctor's not dead."

"Maybe not yet, not now, but he was before. Back in Rose Alley, when the TARDIS arrived..." Lee had withdrawn back into his corner now and glanced at her. "Those bullets were meant for me. Three goons from an opposing gang spent four days tracking me down; I gave 'em the slip over and over until my luck ran out. The TARDIS and the Doctor saved my life; if they hadn't arrived I would have been yet another member of the Chang family left bleeding his life out in the gutter. Most people would say that's all I'm worth."

"I'm not most people," Grace said sharply. "And neither is the Doctor. He might have died then but he's here now, isn't he?"

"He'd still be the way he was if it hadn't been for me. It's my fault he got shot, and my fault he nearly got taken over by the Master. Now I've done it again! If I'd actually listened to him for once and laid low instead of making so much noise - "

"Oh, Lee. You can't blame yourself for this; it was an accident. And do you really think the Doctor holds you responsible for his death?" She looked down at the unconscious Time Lord in her arms and smiled fondly. "Look at him: this is the man who doesn't have the attention span to hold a grudge. He seems perfectly happy to have regenerated, doesn't he? He'd be horrified if he knew you were thinking this way."

"He wouldn't understand." Lee shifted, moving back and away from the thin beams of light that broke through the grill high up in the wall and shattered on the rough stone floor. "He's an alien, what does he know about my life? The Master was right: there's nothing for me back home, no one to miss me. The last two friends I had in the world were killed by the same guys who shot the Doctor."

"There must be someone - "

His voice rose again. "Didn't you hear me? There's _no one_ , no one at all. You don't understand either; I bet you never lost both your parents before you were done with middle school."

"You know nothing about me," Grace said slowly, needled by his dismissive tone.

"I know you're not like me, with your fancy education and your high-powered job." Lee snorted. "Admit it: you thought I was garbage the minute we met."

"If I did, it was only after you stole the Doctor's things and ran off. What the hell was I supposed to think?" She sighed in frustration, shoving away the desire to scream and tear at her hair. Forcing herself to try and stay calm she snapped, "Y'know, your background doesn't give you the monopoly on family tragedy. Even those of us lucky enough to have comfortable lives suffer loss."

To his credit, Lee actually looked surprised. "You mean - ?"

"You're not the only one to lose parents. OK, I may have still had my Dad but my mother died when I was five. That's why I'm a doctor: I wanted to find out what killed her and stop any more little girls losing their mommies." Grace swallowed. It was all so long ago; she'd stopped feeling emotional about it, or thought she had, but she could still see in her mind's eye the closed bedroom door and the lines on her father's face. He'd looked so old that day; hunched over, not like the big, strong Daddy she knew. He never really recovered. "I don't remember her that well, but I still miss her every day. I wonder what she would have thought about my life, whether she would have been proud of me." A laugh broke through; probably hysteria. "God knows what she'd think if she could see me now. Grace Holloway: time travelling cardiologist!"

"She was... ill?"

She nodded. "A congenital heart defect; they couldn't do anything for her."

Lee suddenly seemed very interested in the floor, tracing patterns in the dust. After a long moment he said quietly, "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, not this time," Grace said lightly, grateful for the sympathy and glad she'd managed to reach him. "We've not found a cure for it yet, but I'm still hoping. And in the meantime I've helped make sure a lot more moms and dads live to see their kids grow up."

Now it was his turn to sigh. "You're a good person, Grace. Better than me, anyway."

"Don't say that! You're a good kid, Lee; you've just been dealt a really bad hand." She reached over as best she could while cradling the Doctor and caught hold of his fingers, giving them a friendly squeeze. He tensed for a moment but didn't pull away which was a good sign. "Just think: you stood up to the Master. Not many would have found the courage to do that."

"Yeah, and look what happened. Got me killed, didn't it?"

"Only for a while." Grace smiled and tried to meet his gaze. "And that's something we _do_ have in common: we've both seen the other side. Even the Doctor's never been there."

It took a few moments, but eventually he smiled back. "I guess that's true." He glanced at the Doctor; the Time Lord looked quite comfortable, and if it weren't for the blood staining his shirt and waistcoat he might have just been sleeping. "D'you think he's jealous?"

"Insanely. You know he can't stand someone else knowing more than him."

Lee laughed, then looked thoughtful. "You really think I'm a good person?"

Grace squeezed his hand again and released it. "Yeah, I do. And the Doctor does, too. I don't know if he was reading souls, or timelines, or whatever the hell he can see that we can't when he makes these predictions, but he told me you have great potential."

The smile that was still lurking around Lee's lips became sly. "You two pillow talk about me, then?"

"What?! You really think that we're - " She stared at him, seeing that the smile had now turned into an all-out grin, and huffed, eyes narrowed in a dangerous glare. "Ohh, I get it. You are an asshole, Chang Lee."

"I thought I was a good kid?" he asked, immediately all innocence. That wide-eyed, 'what, me?' look _had_ to have been picked up from the Doctor.

"Even the best people can still be assholes."

"Known a few, have you?" Lee's cheekiness was returning to the fore, and Grace was glad to see it. She was curious about his parents, and what might have happened to any siblings he may have had, but didn't like to push his confidence. Hopefully he'd trust her enough to open up at little more in time.

"One or two." She pulled a face. "Comes with the territory when you're the youngest consultant in the cardiology department, and the only woman to boot."

"Knowing you, Grace, I'm pretty sure you didn't take any crap from 'em."

She was attempting to work out if he was still trying to get a rise out of her when she was distracted by the tickling of the Doctor's curls against her neck. Glancing down she saw him moving for the first time in hours and her hand moved automatically to feel for his carotid artery; his pulse, which had been steady but incredibly slow, was almost back to normal and a huge wave of relief swept through her. Frowning, he batted her fingers away and mumbled without opening his eyes,

"Grace, there's no need for that."

"As the one who's been sitting here worrying and wondering when, or if, you were going to wake up, I beg to differ," she retorted and he gave a long-suffering groan. "How are you?"

"Fine," he said immediately, adding before she could even open her mouth, "And don't think I can't hear you disagreeing with me."

Deciding not to even bother trying to dispute the logic of that statement she said, "You were stabbed. Twice. And you've been unconscious for about five hours."

"Ah, yes. I'm sorry about that." His eyes finally fluttered open and he actually had the decency to look sheepish. "The blood loss was starting to become rather acute so I had to put myself into a healing trance. I would have warned you but time was rather of the essence."

"I'll think about forgiving you later," Grace told him. "Now you're back with us, do you have something in your pockets I can use to dress those wounds properly? I really need to start carrying a first-aid kit around with me."

"No need, no need." The Doctor tried to sit up; he wobbled around, nearly falling backwards again so she let him lean against her for a bit longer. He tugged open his bloodstained shirt and waistcoat. "All healed over, see?"

"Wow," Lee breathed, leaning in for a curious look at their friend's almost unblemished torso. The only traces of the stab wounds were two thin pink lines, one across his stomach and the other beneath his ribs. "That's incredible, man. Can you teach me how to do it?"

"Sorry, Lee, you'd need Time Lord DNA first," the Doctor replied, looking mournfully down at his wrecked clothes. "Such a shame about this waistcoat; it's ruined now and I really liked it."

"We'll get you a new one," Grace promised, feeling the rise of an all-too-familiar exasperation at his habit of focussing on trivial matters at times like this. "At the moment, though, I think we have more important things to worry about, don't you?"

"We do?" His pale blue gaze flicked about the gloomy little room and the frown returned. "Where _are_ we?"

"In a cell. After you fainted they decided to dump us in here."

"ʻDump' is the right word," Lee added, rubbing at a bruise on his forehead. "I don't think they know too much about humans."

"Or care," Grace added. She knew without checking that her arms were going to be black and blue the next day.

The Doctor looked grim. "Right. In that case I suggest we see about getting out of here."

Grace and Lee exchanged and glance and she rolled her eyes. "Oh, of _course_! Why didn't we think of that?"

"Probably because you haven't seen the inside of as many prisons as I have," the Doctor muttered, either ignoring the sarcasm or failing to process it entirely. He patted down his pockets and said something that appeared to be in no language Grace had ever heard but which sounded extremely rude. "No sonic screwdriver. We'll have to do it the old-fashioned way, I'm afraid."

"Ventilation duct?"

Now he gave her a look and pointed upwards. "I don't think we'd fit through, do you?"

There were two tiny grilles near the ceiling. Grace had been dieting before Christmas but even so it would be an extremely tight fit. "Ah."

"Quite. Lee, would you do the honours?"

"Me?" The Doctor was nodding towards the door and Lee blinked in confusion for a few moments before his face cleared and he jumped to his feet. "All right!" With barely a pause for breath he began shouting at the top of his lungs, bashing at the door with fists and feet. "Hey! Hey, you! Let me out of here!"

Grace shook her head, wondering what would come sooner: their release or a migraine caused by the noise.


	6. Chapter 6

It was the tapping on the door that finally woke Grace.

At first she'd thought it was just part of her dream, that if she ignored it it might go away, or at least resolve itself into something more relevant, but eventually her subconscious seemed to realise its insistence and began to draw her reluctantly back towards wakefulness. She lay there for a few minutes, listening to the ever-present hum of the TARDIS and the steady sigh of her own breathing; when the sound didn't come again she punched her pillow in irritation and tried to settle back down, hoping she might be able to pick up the thread where she'd left off. Her brain was just relaxing, her body on the verge of sleep once more, when the knocking, louder this time, startled her, sending her heart off on a cardiac drum solo.

"Grace?" The sound of the Doctor's voice made Grace flop back down and pull the pillow over her head. It was no good; she could still hear him. "Grace, are you asleep?"

"Yes," she said loudly. "I'm still blissfully away in the land of nod, dreaming that there isn't a mad Time Lord knocking at my door in the middle of the night."

"Good." The door opened and she could just see his outline in the almost-darkness; the TARDIS never let the room get completely pitch black, somehow attuned to Grace's natural rhythms as a city-dweller and knowing she couldn't sleep without the faint glow of a street lamp somewhere. "I was hoping you'd still be up."

"Doctor, I am nowhere near 'up'," she corrected. "I am at present lying in bed, trying to get back to sleep; sleep, by the way, from which you just woke me. Why the hell would I still be up at - " Reaching over for her watch on the nightstand she squinted at the dial and the ship helpfully raised the light level just enough. " – three AM?"

"Time is relative," the Doctor said dismissively. "It's only three AM because you think it is."

"No," Grace told him, wondering if murder was illegal everywhere in the cosmos, "It's three AM because my watch tells me it is. That's what watches are for." She groaned. "What do you want, anyway? I was in the middle of a really good dream: telling Roger Swift exactly what I thought of him in front of a crowd of cheering onlookers."

He frowned, sitting down; Grace had to move her right foot before it was squashed. "I hope there weren't any profanities involved."

"Every other word." Glad that the light was still dim and conscious of the sight she must present in an oversized t-shirt and with terrible bed-hair, she pulled the sheets up a bit further. "Was there something you wanted, or do you wake all your companions in the middle of the night? Is it some sort of weird TARDIS ritual?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

She yawned. "I can't help it; sleep deprivation brings out the loopy side of me."

"Actually..." Unusually he sounded a little hesitant and she squinted, trying to make him out; he was hugging one knee, awkwardly perching on the end of the bed. "I was wondering if I could show you something."

"This better not be some weird come on," Grace warned, and the light lifted again just in time for her to see his eyebrows fly upwards towards his fringe.

"Certainly not!" he cried, and his next words almost tripped over themselves in his haste to get them out. "I mean, it's not as though I would never... you know that I... but there are times and places and I respect you as a friend - "

"Doctor," she said, trying not to laugh as her resentment at being woken started to melt, just a little, "It was a joke. "

"Oh." His shoulders slumped in obvious relief. "Oh, good."

"But you know that if you make a habit of walking into my bedroom like this there might be talk. Kidding – kidding!" Grace added quickly when he opened his mouth to start protesting again. "Anyway, Lee already thinks we're... y'know."

"He thinks what?!" The Doctor's eyebrows shot up again before he relaxed, finally realising she wasn't being serious. Well, not much. "He couldn't have seen anything, he's asleep."

"Oh, you walked in on him, too, did you?"

"No," he said with what sounded like forced patience, "I heard him snoring when I passed his door. He sounded dead to the world."

"Lucky guy," Grace muttered. "So, what did you want to show me that couldn't wait till a civilised hour?"

"What did I... oh!" He looked flummoxed for a moment at being forcibly brought back to the point before a proud grin settled on his face. "I finished it."

She stared at him, and when no more was forthcoming wearily rubbed her eyes. It really was too late/early for this. "Finished what? _Oliver Twist_? The _Times_ crossword? Translating _I Love Lucy_ into Venusian?"

"How did you know they're partial to vintage American sitcoms on Venus?" the Doctor asked, surprised. "I once met a warlord there who was very fond of Lucille Ball."

"Lucky guess. And if you don't tell me the truth I'm going back to sleep," Grace threatened, hiking the covers back over her shoulders with excessive force in the hope of dislodging him. It didn't work. "I can't deal with your nonsense on four hours' rest."

"Funny, I thought you doctors thrived on short nights," he said, and backed away as she gave him her patented death glare. "All right, all right. I wanted you to know that I finished the butterfly room."

"The butterfly... oh, that place you were talking about to house your collection? That's nice, but couldn't you have waited until the morning to tell me?"

"Well, I did try." He glanced at the floor and then back at her with a distinctly sheepish expression. "But I was just too excited and I wanted to share it with someone."

"Hold on..." Grace thought about this. "You want me to come and see your butterflies? Right now?"

The Doctor gave her a hopeful little smile and looked at her with those puppy dog eyes he damn well knew she couldn't resist and she sighed. It really was like dealing with an overgrown child sometimes. And just as single-minded as children could be, he clearly wasn't going to leave her alone until she agreed to do what he wanted.

"Oh, all right. And after that do you promise to leave me in peace until tomorrow lunchtime?"

"Gallifreyan Scouts' honour." He found her dressing gown on the bedstead and handed it to her, but made no move to get up. When Grace just gave him a pointed look he blinked. "What?"

"I'm not going traipsing about the TARDIS corridors like this. I look like a complete hag."

He shrugged. "It doesn't bother me."

"Well it bothers me! Give me five minutes to get dressed." When he still didn't move she threw her pillow at him. It bounced off his shoulder. "Out!"

"Ah. Yes, yes, of course." She aimed another missile and he jumped up, heading for the door. Pausing on the threshold he added, "You promise you won't go straight back to sleep?"

 _As if I could_ , Grace thought, retrieving the pillow and staring at it longingly. _As if I could_.

* * *

"Don't you ever sleep?" she asked ten minutes later, when she'd had a quick wash and dragged on some sweats and it became obvious in the strong light of the corridor that he was annoyingly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. He'd shed his coat and cravat at some point since she'd turned in but his clothes still looked pressed and neat, his gaze was clear and his attitude way too perky for such an early hour.

"Occasionally. Time Lords don't actually need much rest; our bodies are much more efficient than yours, you see. Your eight hours of sleep a night is compressed into just one or two a week for us. Anyway," the Doctor said when Grace was starting to contemplate whacking him one for being a superior ass, "Sleep is for tortoises."

"Bet those tortoises are happy and well-rested."

He raised an eyebrow. "No doubt they are. But the point here is that if I needed to sleep as much as you do I would never have got the butterfly room started, much less actually finished it."

"Oh. You mean you've been working on it while we've been asleep?" He nodded and she felt suddenly and inexplicably guilty that he'd been toiling away all on his own. "You should have told us; we could have helped you."

"I appreciate the sentiment, Grace, but do you understand block-transfer computations and advanced Gallifreyan mathematics?"

"Er, no." She pulled a face. "God, that sounds terrible."

"Well, it can be extremely tedious, especially if you get almost to the end and find there's an error in your code. Putting it right is a bit like trying to unpick a particular stitch in a piece of knitting; one false move and the whole thing unravels. Everything you've built just floats away." The Doctor grinned. "The end result is worth it, though."

Grace took a minute to get her head around this. "Hold on a second. Do you mean you've been making this thing out of numbers?"

"Of course." The way he said those words made it sound as though the concept was the most obvious thing in the world. "The whole TARDIS is made of complex mathematical formulae. If you tried to build an almost infinite ship from standard materials you'd exhaust whole planets before you reached the kitchen."

"So none of this is actually real?" She looked around at the walls, half-expecting them to be transparent, nebulous, but everything looked as solid as ever. "It could all just disappear?"

"I certainly hope not." The Doctor stamped down hard on the floor; Grace winced, but nothing so much as wobbled. "See? It's all perfectly stable. Gallifrey has been using block-transfer calculations for millennia."

"Wouldn't bricks and mortar be easier?" _And safer_ , she didn't add.

He sniffed. "If you want to be boring about it. But this makes redecorating the work of a moment, and you can have anything you want." A moment later the grin was back. "Caves, castles, submarines... you could live on a galactic star cruiser if you really wanted to, though I've no idea why you would. I could turn the console room into a Bedouin tent, the great library of Alexandria or an exact model of the Mare Sirenum on Mars, if I were so inclined. Isn't that more exciting?"

His enthusiasm was infectious and Grace couldn't help smiling back. "Yeah, I guess it is. So why did you base its current appearance on a steam-punk gentlemen's' club?" she teased. He gave her a mock-affronted look and she laughed. "Well, come on, then. I thought you were going to show me this wonderful achievement of yours? Did you decide on a conservatory in the end?"

"Not exactly..." The Doctor took hold of her hand and she let him lead her down the passage, towards a rather ordinary-looking wooden door that looked very out of place in the pristine walls. For some reason the Gothic decoration of the console and cloister rooms didn't extend to much of the rest of the ship, which almost veered towards the sterile: gleaming white surfaces interspersed with circular indentations he'd referred to as 'roundels'. Grace supposed he'd started redecorating and got bored, or distracted. "OK," he said. "Close your eyes."

"And have something jump out and scare me to death? No way."

He huffed. "Grace, I do wonder sometimes exactly what you think of me. I promise you that idiotic practical jokes really aren't my style, in any incarnation."

"Sorry. I went out with a guy once who thought giving me a cardiac arrest on a daily basis was fun. And this place is still so weird to me," Grace admitted. "I saw a cat the other day, right at the end of the corridor. At least I think it was a cat, and I think it was the end but it's so hard to tell in here; the passages seem to go on forever. You never mentioned having a cat."

"I don't. Well, that is to say I _did_ , but I left him with a previous companion. There certainly shouldn't be any felines wandering around in here now." The Doctor frowned. "What did this cat look like?"

"Just like a regular cat," she said with a shrug. "It was white, I think, but that's all."

"Hmm. Definitely not Wolsey, then. Maybe it's the TARDIS playing about with the time fields, breaking down barriers for a split-second and allowing you to glimpse the future."

"She can do that?"

"Sometimes, usually under some outside influence. But it's not important now." He turned back to the door and turned the handle, throwing it open. "Butterflies!"

Grace peered through the doorway but could make out little beyond a black void. "I can't see any butterflies."

"Well, I had to put a containment field around the door or they'd all end up escaping, wouldn't they? The last thing I want is for Jasper and Stewart to take decide they'd make a tasty midnight snack," said the Doctor. He stepped aside and extended a hand. "After you."

"Jasper and Stewart?" she enquired as she stepped over the threshold.

"The cloister room bats."

"Ah. Should've guessed." Grace looked around but she still couldn't see much; a gentle breeze, like that on a bright summer's day, touched her skin, and she could have sworn she could smell wildflowers. "Hey, is it me or is it warmer in here?"

"Walk on a bit further," the Doctor suggested, and so she did.

Gradually, the darkness began to recede, shadows resolving themselves impossibly into the branches of trees, the leaves and fronds of both mundane and exotic foliage. Somehow she could feel uneven earthy terrain beneath her feet, hear the swish of grass as she moved through it. The scent of flowers grew stronger, and somewhere in the distance came the distinctive sound of birdsong. She emerged into a clearing, and her mouth fell open in shock at what she saw.

"Oh, my _God_."

She heard the Doctor come up beside her. "Do you like it?" he asked, his tone that breathless, eager one, the one that meant he was probably bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. "It's rather good, isn't it?"

"We're on the side of a hill," Grace said, staring out across the view spread below her; somewhere down there was a river, snaking its glittering way across the valley floor. Above stretched an azure blue sky, a few fluffy clouds drifting lazily past. There was a rushing sound, the fluttering of thousands of tiny wings, and a whirling rainbow of all kinds of butterflies twisted and looped around her head; instinctively she ducked and they wheeled away, up into the clear blue expanse. "You've put a hill in the TARDIS!"

"I did say block-transfer computations could do anything." Now he sounded just a bit smug. She supposed she couldn't really blame him.

"Yeah, but I was expecting something... well, something a little smaller?"

"I admit, it did start out small, but then I made a few..."

"Mistakes?" she tried.

"Detours," he corrected. Grace glanced round to see that a purple swallowtail had landed on the end of his nose. "It sort of... grew from there. I was quite pleased with the way it turned out, though. What do you think?"

"I think..." She searched for adequate words, feeling butterflies start to settle on her shoulders and in her hair. It was a peculiar feeling, and one with which she wasn't immediately comfortable but she made herself fight her initial reaction and not shrug them off. "I think it's amazing."

The Doctor smiled happily. "Good."

Grace lifted her hand; there was an orange sulphur perched on her wrist. "Are these guys computer generated, too?"

"Certainly not!" He reached out, extending a finger towards the butterfly; after a few moments' consideration it walked across from Grace's hand to his. "Some ended up in the TARDIS by accident when they flew into the console room, and there's colony of great heliotrope painted ladies that I rescued on Hydropon VII, but mainly they're all here by choice. They seem to like it."

"Can't blame them." She gazed out across the valley again, still not quite able to believe that this space was actually inside the TARDIS. The 'sun' was soft on her face, the breeze just the right temperature, neither too hot nor too cold; another butterfly brushed its wings against her cheek and she found that she was starting not to mind all that much. "It's beautiful."

"I'm glad you approve. Would you like to stay a while, or do you have a pressing engagement elsewhere?"

"With what we primitive humans call sleep, you mean? I think I may be able to put it off for a bit longer," Grace said. "But if I'm cranky in the morning you know it'll be your fault, right?"

The Doctor chuckled. "I'm willing to take that chance."

She turned, holding out a hand, and burst out laughing to see him covered by a moving, fluttering, multicoloured shawl, the butterflies landing all over his head and shoulders, clinging to his waistcoat and tangled in his curls. He just grinned, and she shook her head. "Oh, my. Come on, then. You can take me on a tour and tell me how clever you've been. But," she added, "I promise you that if you try and explain to me exactly how you did it I _will_ go back to sleep."

"Perish the thought. It's all very complicated and boring anyway. Just think of it as magic."

"As in: ʻAny sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from'?" Grace asked, hoping she'd got the quote right.

"Ah, Clarke's third law. Personally I think magic is much more fun," said the Doctor. He lifted an eyebrow, long, cool fingers closing around her own. "Shall we find out?"

The butterflies were marching across their linked hands, from his wrist to hers. "Why not?"

"Why not indeed."

After all, Grace reflected, there were worse ways to spend the night.


	7. Chapter 7

Grace had never been so relieved in her life when the door slid open and she saw the Doctor standing there.

"Oh, my God, I don't think I've ever been so happy to see anyone!" she exclaimed, just about managing to stop herself hurtling forwards and throwing her arms around his neck. When he didn't speak she realised he was flanked by two soldiers and looking very, very serious. Her heart, which had lifted and been joyously soaring amongst the clouds, dropped straight back into her shoes. "What's the matter? What's happening?"

"You are free to go," one of the guards said in that strange sing-song manner the Gelphonians had. "You will leave the cell."

"Doctor?" Confused, Grace turned back to him; two minutes ago she'd been dolefully contemplating her fate, sure she was on death row and now this... "Doctor, what do they mean?"

"The charges against you have been dropped," he told her quietly. "Go back to the TARDIS and wait for me there."

"Wait for you... no! We'll leave together! They don't need you here any more - "

"The Doctor will remain," intoned the other guard. "His punishment is still to be carried out."

"His _what_?!" Grace wanted to scream; she wasn't stupid by a long chalk (she was a successful cardiologist for God's sake!) but she didn't understand any of this. "What punishment? What's he done? He _helped_ you - "

"The Doctor has agreed to accept your punishment and suffer the consequences," the first guard announced.

"Under Gelphonian law the crime of one may be freely accepted by its mate," added the other. "As your mate the Doctor was willing to bear your sentence."

"He argued quite eloquently in your defence. The judges were convinced that you are a primitive life form with no understanding that what you did was wrong."

"I'm a _what_?" For a split second Grace was ready to chew her companion out for that description but she noticed the tiny shake of the head he gave and clammed up. His eyes were melancholy but his jaw was set, his head held high. "Oh, Doctor. Why did you do this?"

"Go back to the TARDIS," he said again, his voice amazingly level. "Lee is there already. I'll follow you as soon as I can."

"What will they do?" she asked. At no point during her imprisonment had she been told what might await her, whether it would be a telling-off or a fate worse than death. She hadn't even been allowed to attend her own trial on this insane world, and all for trying to help someone in need of urgent medical assistance. He didn't respond, so she tried again. "Doctor, what will they do?"

"Sentence is no concern of yours," the first guard declared. "You will leave the cell."

"Do as they say, Grace," the Doctor urged. "Just walk away and don't look back."

"No! I'm not leaving you!" She stepped towards him, arms outstretched; with a swift movement she almost didn't even see two blasters were pointed right at her heart. "Hey, am I not even allowed to give my 'mate' a goodbye hug?" she demanded, thinking fast. "It's...er... traditional in our culture."

The guards looked at each other. "Very well," the second one said. "You have one minute."

Grace didn't hesitate; she pulled the Doctor to her in a desperate embrace, feeling his arms slide around her waist. "What will they do to you?" she whispered in his ear.

"It doesn't matter. All that matters is your safety," he told her firmly.

"Bullshit," she retorted. "I might be safe but you're not! Let me stay with you!"

"Grace." He hadn't raised his voice but the sharp edge to his tone made her flinch. "Their patience won't last forever. I had to negotiate hard for them to extend the same courtesies to an off-worlder as they do to their own people so please don't throw all that effort away. If we waste too much of their time they may decide to make an example of us and execute us both. Do you want that?"

Suddenly Grace felt very small, and hopelessly out of her depth. All she'd wanted was to do her job and help someone in trouble and look where that had got her, where it had got them both. "No," she said softly. "No, of course I don't."

"Then walk away. They won't bother you; now I've taken the shame and responsibility for your crime you pretty much cease to exist for them. Just look after yourself, and Lee, until I get back, OK?"

"OK," she reluctantly agreed, and he gave her a fierce squeeze for a second before one of the guards announced that their time was up and he must let her go. They motioned for him to enter the cell she had just vacated, and she could barely make out the reassuring little smile he gave her before the door slid shut; it took her a moment to realise it was because her eyes were full of tears.

For one horrible moment Grace wondered if she'd ever see him again.

* * *

Just as the Doctor had said, no one paid Grace any attention as she made her way back through the streets of the city to where they'd left the TARDIS. People looked straight through her, or turned their heads away as she passed. _Word gets round quickly here_ , she thought ruefully, _I've been shunned_. Eventually the familiar blue shape of the police box loomed out of the trees ahead of her and she broke into a stumbling run, realising only at the last moment that the Doctor had given his key to Lee and she didn't have anyone to give her a helpful bunk up to reach the one hidden above the sign. Collapsing against the door she banged on the nearest panel as loudly as she could, giving the wood a kick for good measure and immediately feeling guilty. "Sorry, old girl," she whispered, stroking the grain. "It's been a bad day. A _really_ bad day."

Abruptly the door opened and she all but fell into the lobby, dragging herself back to her feet with the last of the energy that had seemed to be draining away ever since she left the Doctor behind in the prison. She made it through the doors to the console room and they shut behind her with a comforting boom; nothing would be getting inside after her. Her legs wobbled as she stumbled down the steps; glancing up she felt eyes on her and saw Lee standing by the console, his face creased in a worried frown.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded. "And where's the Doctor?"

"They let me go, thanks for asking," Grace snapped, and he flinched, briefly lowering his gaze. "The Doctor offered to take my place."

"He did _what_?!" Lee's eyes and mouth widened to comic proportions. "Then you mean - "

"I'll explain, or try to," she said wearily. "But first I need a stiff drink."

* * *

The Doctor not being much of a drinker it took some cajoling to persuade the food machine to make her a Scotch, but she managed it eventually.

She cleaned herself up some while Lee paced the console room in frustration, and, figuring she deserved comfort of some sort after all she'd been through, finally curled up in the big red and gold armchair on the edge of the library with her drink and a furry throw to fill him in on what had been happening over the past thirty-six hours. As she spoke his expression gradually turned from disbelief to anger to horror; his teeth and fists clenched but she knew that, no matter how mad they both were feeling, there was nothing they could do.

"He'll be OK, though, right?" he asked. "It's the Doctor; he's always OK."

"I don't know," Grace told him honestly. "He wouldn't say what he thought they might do and I have no idea what constitutes justice on this mixed up mud ball."

"We should get into the prison; break him out!"

"With what: just the two of us and no weapons?" He looked mutinous and she rested a hand on his arm. "I feel the same, Lee; I hated to have to leave him. But what can we do? We don't have an army, no one will support us; we can't even move the TARDIS."

Lee brightened. "How about the mayor? The Doctor helped him out; maybe he'll do the same in return."

"It was the mayor who approved my sentence," Grace said. "He won't help us now; it would be seen as overriding the whole legal system for an off-worlder and his ministers won't stand for that. However much we hate it, we're got no choice but to sit tight and wait for the Doctor to get back. Who knows: maybe they'll just let him off with a slap on the wrist."

Even as she spoke the words she knew it was a vain hope.

* * *

Lee was fast asleep on the sofa when the knock sounded on the TARDIS door and it took a few moments for Grace's brain to make the connection between the noise and the awaited return of their companion; she was on her feet and hurrying across to the console almost before she realised the fact. On the scanner the view from the exterior camera just showed her the top of the Doctor's curly head as he leaned against the door; she couldn't see any obvious marks on him but knew by now that alien cultures often had more subtle means of imparting their own favoured brand of 'justice'. Swiftly she threw the lever to let him in and was halfway across the room when he appeared at the top of the stairs, standing straight and tall but with a fading bruise across the right side of his face and a definite tremble in his hands.

"Oh, thank God," Grace breathed. "I was starting to think they'd never let you go."

He smiled, just slightly. "The miscreant – or rather her representative – has been punished, atonement has been made, so they released me. And also told me in no uncertain terms to get off their planet and never come back." On the surface his voice was as smooth and even as ever but she didn't miss its tiny wobble as he reached the end of the sentence. Something was obviously wrong.

"Such a nice people," she said dryly, adding before he could reply, "You're hurt; what did they do?"

"Really, Grace, I'm perfectly all right," the Doctor insisted, reluctant, as ever to submit himself to what he regarded as her 'fussing'. He walked with admirable control over to the console and started laying in new coordinates, sending the ship barrelling back into the vortex and away from Gelphon. As the sound of the ancient engines reverberated through the room and the familiar swirling blue-green beauty of the vortex rippled across the ceiling his pinched expression relaxed just a fraction and he breathed what must have been a heartsfelt sigh of relief. Grace could sympathise; she couldn't wait to get away either, but there were more important issues to deal with right now and she wasn't going to be flimflammed, not this time.

"Doctor," she said, using the no-nonsense tone that always used to work on interns and inexperienced nurses, "Where are you hurt?"

He waved a dismissive hand, a gesture that might have been more effective had not the hand in question been shaking. "It's nothing; they had no idea about my superior physiology."

"It doesn't look like nothing to me." Grace came up beside him and he jumped, as though he hadn't noticed her standing there. She lifted a hand to his face, gently touching the bruise with her fingertips and he flinched away; there was a cut just under his eye and the sclera was bloodshot. "Did they hit you?"

"More than once, actually." He caught hold of her fingers and moved them away. A shiver bolted up Grace's spine; his skin was even colder than usual, practically freezing. "There's no need to fuss; I just need a bit of a lie down, that's all."

She didn't believe him for a moment but she knew how to deal with incidents like this; for all his alien origins he was a man and she knew from long experience that men always hated to admit when they needed help. "OK," she told him, stepping back slightly. "Off you go, then; Lee and I will leave you in peace."

The Doctor's eyes widened in surprise that she was accepting defeat so easily before narrowing again suspiciously. "Really?"

"Really. You go have a nice nap." She gave him a bright smile. "I'll put the kettle on when you wake up."

"Thank you." Turning slightly he went to take a step, but stopped, blinking furiously. One hand flew out to the console for support, catching hold of the ledge with clumsy fingers. "Er... Grace?" he said in a very small voice, the little colour that had been left in his face leeching away as though someone had pulled a plug.

Grace was back at his side in a moment. "What is it?"

He made an effort to straighten up but failed miserably and as she watched his eyes began to lose focus. "I'm terribly sorry, but I think I'm going to collapse," he mumbled, and pitched forwards in a dead faint. Grace was only just quick enough to catch him before his head hit the parquet floor, and as she did she finally saw the blood that was pooling on the back of his coat, soaking into the velvet.

* * *

Grace yelled at Lee to wake him, and between them they managed to carry the Doctor to the TARDIS's infirmary, a room she'd so far only seen in passing and never had cause to enter.

They manoeuvred him out of his coat, waistcoat and shirt and laid him down on his stomach on one of the beds; Grace felt her own gut churn slightly as she beheld the wounds across his back: long welts that appeared to have been made by a lash of some sort. She glanced up to see Lee looking rather green and sent him over to the multitude of shiny white cupboards to search for cotton, antiseptic and bandages. For all his experience on the streets with the triads it was obvious he'd never seen injuries of this sort before, but then neither had she, not really. This kind of barbarity had no place in the modern world. Silently she thanked the Doctor for sparing her such a punishment and cursed him for being stupid enough to take it on himself.

"Those guys are complete sickos," Lee observed, holding the tray for her and averting his eyes as she bathed the wounds. Under her touch and the sting of the antiseptic the Doctor started and groaned; she gently rested a hand on his shoulder as he instinctively tried to sit up.

"It's OK; just lie still. I'm dealing with it," Grace told him, and could see him gritting his teeth as she continued with her work. "Some of these are going to need stitches; do you have needles and suture thread?"

He shook his head. "No need."

"Doctor, I don't care about your Gallifreyan healing powers; I'm the medic here and you're not going to talk me out of this," she warned. "Those wounds need stitching."

"No, no, no, that's not what I meant," he said hoarsely. With a grimace of pain he lifted himself up on one elbow and managed to point towards one of the cabinets. "Isoderm welder, top shelf."

"Lie back down; Lee can get it," Grace instructed, and a few moments later a rather baffled Lee was handing her an egg-shaped device with no apparent buttons or controls.

"What the heck does this do?" he asked, frowning.

"It knits torn flesh back together," the Doctor told him and Grace couldn't help but laugh despite the situation.

"Yeah, _right_ ," she said. "And I'm Mother Teresa."

The Doctor just gave her a look, his face tense, and she immediately wished she'd kept her mouth shut. This was no time to be facetious. "Grace, _please_."

"OK, OK, I'm sorry; that was unprofessional. How does it work?"

"Just wave it over my back. But no more than two passes, mind," he added as she moved the welder into position. "That should hopefully be enough."

Grace did as she was told. The first pass all but stopped the bleeding, and to her amazement before she'd finished the second the cuts were beginning to close. She'd seen the Doctor's incredible powers of recuperation more than once before but this... this was something else. The idea that future technology would be able to create something like this, would be able to heal almost instantly... in that moment she couldn't decide whether from her point of view it was a good or a bad thing. Centuries from now, would they even need doctors, people like her, any more?

She was still staring at the miracle in her hand when the Doctor pushed himself stiffly into a sitting position. He glanced around for his shirt and pulled a face when he saw the state of it, opting instead to wrap the blanket from the end of the bed around his shoulders; Grace caught it just in time, pulling it away to reveal his healing back. The wounds had all but closed up; what was left already scabbing over and drying out. She wondered whether she'd ever get used to seeing such serious injuries just disappear, her medical training constantly claxoning at her that, no matter what her eyes told her, it should not be happening. It _could_ not be happening!

"Hold on," she said, grateful to be distracted by something practical she could do to help. "You need a dressing on those."

She knew he was rolling his eyes at her but ignored him, fetching gauze and tape from the supplies Lee had found earlier. The kid was standing around awkwardly, not quite sure what, if anything, he should be doing, and Grace took pity on him.

"Why don't you put the kettle on?" she suggested. "I think we could all use a hot drink."

Relieved, Lee went, having no doubt picked up on the tension that was building in the air. Grace took the gauze back to the Doctor and busied herself dressing what was left of his wounds. "You didn't have to send him away," he said quietly.

"Yes, I did," she replied, and he glanced at her over his shoulder, brows lifted in surprise. "I don't want him to be here when we start yelling at each other."

"Are we likely to be yelling at each other?"

"Probably. I definitely feel like yelling at you right now," Grace told him, snipping off a length of surgical tape. "Want to guess why?"

"I have a feeling you're going to tell me anyway," the Doctor said, flinching slightly as she gently pressed the tape to his skin. "You might as well get on with it."

"OK, I will." Pausing, she closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before exclaiming, "What the _hell_ did you think you were doing back there, putting yourself in deadly danger because of me? You nearly got yourself killed!"

"Grace, Grace, Grace - "

She shook her head. "Ohhh, no. Don't you _dare_ 'Grace Grace Grace' me. You knew what was waiting for you but you didn't tell me, did you? Of course not; that would have been too easy. Instead you left me to drive myself mad wondering what those maniacs might do! Don't you think it might have been helpful to actually let me in on your plan?" He opened his mouth to object but she held up a hand, pacing away from the bed, her voice rising as the fear and frustration of the last few hours poured out. "Was a quick 'don't worry, Grace: they'll flog me but I'll drag myself back to the TARDIS and you can put me back together with a surgical magic wand' too much to ask? I have been worried _sick_ about you, you insensitive alien _bastard_!"

She fairly screamed the last word at him and to his credit he had the decency to look contrite. Grace's heart was pounding, her blood rushing in her ears; tears of anger spiked behind her eyes and she turned away, wiping at them with the back of her hand. When she managed to speak once more it was in little more than a whisper:

"When that door separated us I thought I might have seen you for the last time and I just couldn't bear it."

The Doctor said nothing, but a few moments later she felt strong arms encircle her waist from behind and after a moment's resistance for form's sake leaned gratefully into the embrace. They stayed like that for a while, heads together, hands clasped, until eventually she felt his breath on her neck and he murmured, "I'm sorry, truly I am. But you see I couldn't tell you what would happen; it wasn't possible."

Grace bit her lip. "Couldn't, or wouldn't?"

"I couldn't tell you because I didn't know myself." She straightened slightly, twisting her head round to look at him and he nodded. "Sentence hadn't yet been passed; I had no idea what was facing me after that door closed."

"Oh, my God." Grace stared at him, hoping he was joking, but could find no trace of levity or guile in his expression. "You're serious."

"Absolutely. I agreed to take on your punishment, whatever the court decided upon."

"They could have done anything... they could have executed you!" she cried, horrified. "How could you agree to do that? How could you walk into the unknown and be so calm about it?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Because I didn't want you to be the one to make that step. It wasn't fair, or just, and you didn't deserve it."

"Neither did you! It's crazy, completely insane..." She trailed off, turning in his arms until they were face to face. Gently she cupped his bruised cheek in her hand. "You were willing to sacrifice yourself... for _me_?"

"Of course." He said it with utter, quiet conviction, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world to do. "You're my friend, Grace. Why wouldn't I?"

"Oh, God..." With a sigh Grace rested her forehead against his. "I don't think I'm worthy of your friendship, Doctor."

"Allow me to be the judge of that," he retorted.

She laughed, shortly. "You really are a lunatic, aren't you?" she asked, not expecting an answer. "I guess I'll have to try to live up to your expectations."

He shook his head, curls tickling her temple. "Who says I have expectations? It's enough that you're here."

"Crazy man." She kissed his battered cheekbone. "Can we use that welder-thingy to fix up your face?"

"Not unless you want me one-eyed." The Doctor smiled, and then winced as it pulled on tender skin. "It'll heal up soon enough. I suppose I'd better make myself presentable and then we should join Lee; the kettle has probably boiled dry by now."

"True," Grace agreed, reluctantly letting him go. "One thing, though, Doctor."

He paused, gathering up his blood-stained clothes. "Oh, yes?"

"I don't ever want to be frightened like that again. Next time, even if you don't know the answer, tell me _something_ , OK? Not having a clue what's going on scares the crap out of me."

"I can't promise anything," he hedged. "But I'll do my best."

"Good enough for now," she said, and took the hand he offered her. As they left the infirmary she added, "But as your 'mate', I just want you to know that if you don't I'll kill you myself, or at the very least make life _extremely_ uncomfortable for you.

"And that _is_ a promise."


End file.
